If We Killed
by ConfessorRahl17
Summary: Found this on Tumblr and had to get in on it. AU. What if Richard Castle and Kate Beckett were serial killers. A few liberties were taken. Could possibly be a two or three-shot, but who knows. If it is, there will be major Caskett. Enjoy.


**So, hello. How is everyone? Good, I hope. I know I haven't been on in a while. I had to finish school and then stuff happened. I finally understood what our favorite author meant about deadlines. They kill me. Talk about nagging publishers. Anyway, I found this neat little prompt on Tumblr and had to get a piece of it. Hope you enjoy. :)**

* * *

Sometimes the dark is the hardest things to get used to. One gets so used to the light, and then it's just…gone.

One begins to wonder if there ever was really light. Maybe it was always dark. Maybe things begin in the dark and the light washes away the darkness. Maybe that doesn't even make sense.

These are the thoughts of Richard Castle.

When they begin to struggle and you can see the will to live etched on every line in their body. Their face is lined with despair. And if you're lucky, they fight back. Those are the ones he lives for. When they really believe, deep down in their heart, that they can survive. That they can beat whatever they face.

Those are the ones that are the best to break.

* * *

It's something you have to do. The killing. There isn't some great joy from it. It's taking another life. It's doing what you have to do.

These are the thoughts of Kate Beckett.

She gives them every chance to get away. To run. Most take it, but then they try to call the police. She tells them not to. To just go and forget, but they can't just let go.

Then there are the ones who fight back. Who think that a woman as small as her can't possibly hurt them. Those are the one she hurts the most. Shows them that she _can_ hurt them. That she can hurt anyone.

Those are the moments where she loses herself.

* * *

It's dark. The kind of dark that hides things. He loves these nights.

His eyes scan the street. It's mostly empty, and he hides his frustration. He's been so careful. Surely they can't be on to him. Not now.

* * *

She blends in with the crowd. She always does. She's good at it. A natural.

A few men check her out and she catches the eye of one. Winks and lets her eyes run down his body. She catches a flash of metal on his hand and she hides her disappointment. He has a family. Someone to miss him.

It's too dangerous. She supposed to be lying low. But it called to her. It always did.

* * *

He sees someone. A shadow that danced in the light. A light that needs to be snuffed out.

He walks closer. Shuffled a few steps. Just blend in. He's done this a thousand times. Could do it in his sleep.

The shadow is a man. He smiles, falling into step behind the shadow. He's done this a thousand times.

* * *

She leaves. Disappears into the alley and waits for him to follow. They always do.

He appears a moment later. All swagger and bravado. He looks her up and down. Smiles the same sickening grin they all do. She grins back, drawing him in. It's almost too easy. Inside she wants to be sick. He feels nothing for the family he is betraying. They never do.

He backs her against the alley wall. She lets him. Lets him feel powerful and arrogant.

It will knock his guard down. And then she will win.

* * *

The shadow knows he's being followed. He can see him tensing. It brings a smile to his face. This one is a fighter. This one will struggle and try to win.

He's thrilled. He hasn't had a fighter in a while. An alley looms ahead, and he quickens his step. Music drowns his footsteps. It's not loud enough to cover the blood rushing in his ears.

It's loud enough to cover the screams.

* * *

The music is loud. Drowns out most of his words. Not that he says anything important. Not many do.

She smiles at him and laughs when he quits talking. He's close now. His breath fanning her face. Just one step closer.

There's movement at the alley entrance. Two figures. She moves quickly.

Her hand finds the back of his neck and pulls down. He laughs quietly. The sound being cut off abruptly.

The knife slides in easily. He had mistaken her groping hand for passion. She had found the softest part of his stomach, slid the knife in smoothly. His eyes were panicked. She smiles and slides to the ground with him.

She always wins.

* * *

He matched the shadows stride. The alley loomed to the side and he rammed into the shadow's shoulder. He falls quickly, his hands yanked up and tied together. He kicks his feet out and they're grabbed, tied together like his hands.

He laughs. He was right, a fighter. He flicks open the switchblade he brought.

There's movement in the corner. He finds the gun in his waistband. Bending down to be even with the fighter, he slices his knife slowly across the fighter's face. Blood wells and a gasp echoes around the alley. He places a finger to his lips.

No speaking. Not now.

* * *

She hears the gasp. Her body is rigid. Her hand travels to the gun she keeps in her waistband.

A click. Like the safety of a gun going off. Seconds later hers is off.

She has to win.

* * *

He hears the click. It follows his. He isn't alone.

He hopes it's a fighter. Two in one night.

Maybe he is lucky.

* * *

She wants it to be quick. She has a loaded gun. The two bullets that she puts into him won't hurt. She has to stay true her signature. She rises to a crouch.

She rests the gun against his forehead. His eyes widen. She shakes her head softly.

It'll be quick now.

* * *

He bends down next to the fighter. He places the gun to his chest, right above his heart. He's close enough to the alley entrance.

He can escape if he has too.

His finger lays on the trigger. He wanted this one to suffer. To feel what he feels. He smiles.

The next one will suffer even more.

* * *

She pulls the trigger.

* * *

He pulls the trigger.

* * *

She puts two rounds into him. Her signature. She hears the echo of her shots and one more.

She's with another killer.

* * *

He puts one round into him. They won't know it's him but maybe that's the best thing for him right now. He hears his shot and the echo of two others.

He's with another killer.

* * *

She crouches. Puts her gun in front of her in an isosceles stance she saw somewhere. She rises slowly and moves. The figure is tall, broad shouldered, his gun pointed right at her. Familiar. She whispers.

"You."

* * *

He sees her. She's beautiful and powerful with her gun pointing at his head. Familiar. He speaks.

"You."

* * *

 **So, there's that. I hope you enjoyed it. It was interesting and fun to write. I tried something different with it and I think it turned out well. Let me know what you thought please. Means a lot. I'm thinking this will maybe be a two or three-shot depending on the response. Just kidding. I'll keep writing but responses are wanted and welcomed. Thanks. :)**


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